


The Preposterous Hypothesis

by JenovaVII



Category: Finder no Hyouteki | Finder Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-15
Updated: 2012-03-15
Packaged: 2017-11-01 23:42:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/362587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JenovaVII/pseuds/JenovaVII
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Possessiveness is a dangerous thing. And erotic. Dangerously erotic. Erotically dangerous? Take your pick. But keep your hands off.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Preposterous Hypothesis

**Author's Note:**

> Timeline: Sometime after Chapter 4 of Volume 7 'Pray In Abyss'

**Journal** **Entry** **#** _327_

 **Date** **:** _March_ _XX_ _, 20_ _XX_

x

If you think he's the type of guy who's completely in control all the tim-

...No, well, actually he _is_...

 _But_ if you think he's so proud as to not give in to natural male urges... you couldn't have been more wrong.

If you had woken up, deliciously sore all over and incredibly satisfied, found yourself alone in bed, amongst the abused linen sheets, and gotten up to relieve the liquid pressure on your bladder-

 _Like_ _I_ _did_ _._

-and you had been greeted with the naked sight of the whole of his backside, warm condensation filling the bathroom, water rivulets in a descent on the curves and planes of that lick worthy, between tan and pale, skin...

And if you think the most erotic thing you've ever seen in your life is the look on his face as he fucks you thoroughly, as if he wants to eat you alive and lick your bones clean after he's done; as well as the look on his face when you're kneeling between his legs, hands griping his firm thighs as you blow him like _you_ want to devour him whole-

 _Like_ _I_ _did_ _._

-then you've never been granted the privilege of watching him as he pleasures himself: wet, long bangs down his beautiful features, rippling muscles shifting lazily, his right hand stroking himself, the entirety of his hot length.

And if at that moment, with his eyes closed, you heard his low calling of your name – in that deep, sensual voice that wordlessly screamed of sex – and you _knew_ he was thinking about you; you _knew_ he was imagining it was inside of you he was thrusting, satisfying his lust, instead of into his own fist... your whole body would shiver in desire, thundering with pride at the effect you had on him – because it was precisely the same the gorgeous dickhead fucker had on you.

You'd forget that you had already been pounded into oblivion and stretched to the limit the night before, and until just a few hours ago, to boot. You'd force your feet to move and approach your target, as the form of him never left your sight.

 _Like_ _I_ _did_ _._

You'd know _he_ knew you were there – observing him, mentally getting off on him. Just as he was on you. You'd join him under the jet of scalding see through liquid and, from behind, you'd hug his fit, toned waist and your cheeks would burn red at the feel of him. One palm would dance over the V of his abdomen as the other would slide down to join his own around his full length. Your tongue would come out to lap at his back - drinking in the mixture of the soap and his natural scent – followed by your kiss dropping lips.

You wouldn't need to look at his face to know that he was smirking on the outside, grinning on the inside; the smugness of him unbearable as he had, yet again, proof that you wanted him, his touch, his everything, even when you kept on denying so with all you had and, still, you bared yourself to him every time, coming undone at his mere presence. You'd feel like running away, from that house, that prison, from him, from his shackles... but you'd say, either internally or out loud (not like you cared anyway): "Fuck it." as your entire body flushed and embraced what you knew was the truth, what you knew was impossible to hide from, and you let your eyelids close as your lips stretched in a smile and then... then you'd let yourself drown again, be immersed by his existence, in the adjectiveless 'whatever' the thoughts of him did to you - your body - your mind - your soul.

You'd take his hand in yours and make him stroke himself harder. You'd be so aroused you wouldn't be able to take it anymore. You'd rub yourself against the back of his thighs, but then he would lean his head against the cold tiles and make this silently low _groan_ and it would be like he was fucking your ears with his voice.

You'd lose all sense of reason.

 _Like_ _I_ _did_ _._

You'd grip his hip like you didn't want to ever let go – and it wouldn't be just 'like' because you seriously would _never_ want to let go of him - and you'd know _he_ knew your finger marks would stay imprinted on the until then unblemished skin. And you'd turn him around and pin his taller form to the wall with your whole body. You'd laugh at Danger right on its deadly face and you'd boldly slap his hand away and wrap your own directly around his scorching flesh, and he would hiss softly, quietly, as you started a frantic pace that should – would - fucking hurt and it _did_ and then it would be you who would hiss as he looked at you like _that_ \- starved and thirsty - at you - a simultaneously reluctant and willingly banquet for him to feast on. And soon after you'd gasp and fight back the moan that wanted to jump out trough your mouth as he mimicked your actions, his skillful hand around you, working the proof of your arousal unrelentingly, all the while wearing that unbearable curve on the corner of his lips.

And you'd be both hissing and you'd use your free hand to grasp at his chin, at his jaw, and you'd be pulling him down into a desperate kiss, as your teeth would clank with his and it would be so good, so _fucking_ good, and hot, and too much, and both of you would keep going and holding the urge to finish back until you just couldn't anymore and you were releasing, exploding, into each other's hands.

 _Like_ _I_ _did_ _._

 _But_.

 _You_ don't see – hear – feel – know – _think_ any of this at all.

Because the only one who can touch his skin is _me_.

He is _my_ target.

So keep your hands to yourself.

x

 _Takaba_ _Akihito_


End file.
